


dream of a future

by fuyuki_peridot



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 14:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18551437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuyuki_peridot/pseuds/fuyuki_peridot
Summary: He'd known this day was coming, but as it turns out, knowing and being prepared are two very different things.//(Minseok leaves Jongdae for the war. Jongdae dreams of a future.)





	dream of a future

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by  this

He'd known this day was coming, but as it turns out, knowing and being prepared are two _very_ different things.

Not like there’s anything he can do to stop him anyways. The lord of the Kim province has already demanded Minseok’s enlistment, along with his friends Junmyeon and Jongin. He’d have gone too, if not for his damned leg.

“Be safe,” he reminds him uselessly.

Minseok doesn’t respond. The clanking of his shabby armor and dull blades fill in the silence.

“Min,” he says again. “I would go with you too, if my leg-”

“If your leg hadn’t been cut off by those Park bastards,” Minseok hisses.

Jongdae winces. “Min– ”

But how does he even say what weighs heavy on his heart? How does he say that it’s almost inevitable that he won’t come back? That it’s a lost cause, a damned war, and they both know it?

Minseok latches the belt on and wiggles around, making sure nothing falls out. Jongdae would have laughed under any other circumstance, but the road ahead is so dark, and there’s only so much he can handle.

“Be safe,” he repeats, for lack of anything else to say.

Minseok’s even gaze meets his. “Told you,” he says, “I will.”

“I’m gonna go with you and see you off.”

“Don’t have to,” Minseok replies, and rolls his eyes. A facade, Jongdae knows, for the sorrow simmering just beneath the surface.

“I know.”

“You’re making this–  you’re making this harder than it needs to be.” Minseok’s voice is trembling, just slightly, and he turns away, but Jongdae can still see the shimmering tears that threaten to spill over his long lashes.

He doesn’t say anything. The soft thudding of his makeshift crutch and the creaking of the rotted floorboards fill in the silence.

He loops an arm around Minseok’s. It’s uncomfortable, what with his armor and sheaths of blades.

“Let’s go,” he sighs.

“Right,” Jongdae says. “Let’s.”

The walk down to the lord’s home– no, mansion– is long and quiet and painful. Jongdae doesn’t say anything of the blooming cherry blossom trees that line their path, even though they’re Minseok’s favorite. It somehow just doesn’t feel right, to point out something so pretty, so mundane, on his death march.

Their footsteps echo throughout the field, cracking on dry soil and even drier grass. The noise reminds him of their impermanence. Of their impotence, of their powerlessness.

“Well. Here we are,” Minseok declares. They stand at the gate, looking up at the ornately carved demons that laugh at their fate.

“Right. Here we are,” he repeats. He doesn’t remove his arm from Minseok’s. This is his last moment with him, and he will not give it up for anything in this cruel world.

It’s funny, almost. He should be used to this– to saying goodbye, because he’s done it so many times before, so it should be a piece of cake, right?

“Jongdae,” he whispers, voice tight.

He silently lets go, shifts his weight to his crutch. He doesn't look at Minseok as he knocks on the heavy wood.

“There’s no hope in the place I’m headed to,” he admits.

Jongdae already knows. It’s just that hearing it from Minseok himself is so much worse. But he keeps up the lie anyways. “You’re such a strong warrior. You’re gonna be safe, Minseok– ”

“Using real names now, huh,” Minseok laughs. It’s bitter and resentful. Whether it’s towards him or not, he doesn’t know. “Gotta be proper at my funeral, right?”

“Stop it.” His voice is trembling, just slightly. His tears threaten to spill over his long lashes. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

“Promise,” he says carelessly, shrugging.

“Min– ”

The huge gate swings open before them.

Minseok doesn’t even spare him a second glance as he strides to his death.  


 

 

//

  
  


Jongdae is used to saying goodbye.

He’s used to it, but when he turns away from the gate, he still cries.

He hobbles all the way home– no, it’s not home anymore, not with Minseok to fill in the spaces with his endless warmth and softness– but he goes regardless, crying all the while. His feet kick up fallen cherry blossoms and he pauses, just for a fleeting second, to watch them scatter in the wind.

His last few moments with Minseok, and he didn’t even get to tell him how thankful he is for him, how much he’s helped him, how much he loves him. And he didn’t get to repay him, he didn’t get to help him even in the slightest. He couldn’t help shoulder his burdens all the way up to his doomed fate.

“We’ll meet again,” he says. Whether it’s a lie he tells himself, or if it’s a truth that will come alive should he voice it aloud, he’s not sure. He’s never been sure. “We’ll meet again,” he repeats.

“I’m sure.”

  


 

//

  
  


The seasons rotate and the wind brings him red spider lilies in place of cherry blossoms. They don’t bloom at this time of year.

Jongdae is so lonely. It hurts worse than any blade would.

  
  


//

  
  


Time strings him along his sad fate and brings home what’s left of the Kim clan’s army.

Despite his injury, he’s one of the first at the clan’s gates. He searches the crowd for a familiar figure, a reassuring presence, and finds Junmyeon, his armored head ducked down.

“Junmyeon-hyung,” he pleads, “where is– “

Junmyeon meets his gaze. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s nothing to say when it’s all there in the fathomless depths of his eyes.

Jongdae almost laughs. How foolish had he been, to hope and dream of a future? He was better off quitting after all.

“Well,” he says, voice deceptively steady, “it was fate.”

  
  


//

  
  


He stares up at the crescent moon. It seems so distant, so unattainable. All of his hopes and wishes are hanging from that moon. Distant. Unattainable.

He turns over in his little sleeping spot on the ground, lets his deep sorrow and the dark night envelop him, drown him, swallow him whole. There’s a while till morning, but Jongdae can’t get to sleep. Not that he’s trying to or anything, either. Tomorrow is just another sad repetition of today’s hopelessness.

“Fate is cruel,” he says to himself. Just to fill in the silence where someone else would have, a long time ago. “It took me along to meet you and then took you away quickly. Much too quickly.”

A light breeze blows through the cracks of his little house. He almost imagines that he can smell the faint scent of cherry blossoms– how silly. They’re not in bloom right now.

“Still,” he continues. “You’ve left a lasting impression on me, Minseok.”

A pause. An answering wind.

“If I knew that tomorrow would be so mundane, I wouldn’t have said that I wanted to live.”

Another pause. There’s no reply in the endless night.

Jongdae dreams of a future until the morning comes.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry


End file.
